


Forbidden Beauty

by lj0803



Category: Christian Bible, Christian Bible (Old Testament)
Genre: Adultery, Bible, Biblical Reinterpretation, F/M, Forgiveness, Israel, Jerusalem, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 11,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23702773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lj0803/pseuds/lj0803
Summary: A young aristocratic woman. A powerful king. When their paths intertwine, sins are committed, secrets are revealed, and life as they know it is shattered.A short retelling of the biblical story of David and Bathsheba. Any verses quoted or paraphrased are from the NIV Bible.
Relationships: Bat-sheva | Bathsheba/David | Dāūd
Kudos: 4





	1. 1.

Jerusalem, circa 10th century B.C.E.

Bathsheba strolled through her small garden, closing her eyes and inhaling the floral fragrances of springtime. She enjoyed coming here to pass the time.

Approaching a small cluster of roses, Bathsheba stopped, surveying the bush to find the best bloom. Upon choosing her favorite, she pulled it from the bush, careful not to prick her fingers on the small thorns, and returned to the lone wooden bench to sit.

Caressing the soft petals, she though of how her husband would often pick a rose for her, placing it near her side of the bed if he had to leave the house early before she awoke. He often had obligations to fulfill at the palace, being one of the highest-ranking soldiers in the Israelite army and among the closest to the king.

Uriah. She smiled to herself. Though her marriage was arranged, as were most, the two enjoyed a romance not often seen in arranged husbands and wives. Their love blossomed early on in their betrothal and seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

Though born into a Jewish family, Uriah was a part of the small Hittite minority that lived in Israel. He had sworn his loyalty to David when David was still an outlaw, running from the then-king Saul who had plans to kill him to eliminate a threat to his throne. When David eventually became king, having been anointed as a young man by the prophet Samuel, he raised Uriah up to a position of honor.

Bathsheba had met her future husband through her father, Eliam, who had also held a prominent position in the king's army.

She missed her husband dearly. Being a soldier, included among the king's best thirty-seven fighters, he had been called away to battle just a few weeks before. After all, it was spring, the time of year when kings usually sent their armies out to conquer.

Bathsheba didn't know when Uriah would return home. He was frequently away for months at a time. She always struggled to keep herself occupied with household duties and chores while he was gone, nearly worrying herself sick over her husband's safety.

He's a good soldier, she would tell herself. He can hold his own. Though she knew it to be true, her worry lingered.

She was anxious to start a family, but, with her husband away, those plans were put on hold. Again. 

As a young girl, she would dream of having many children, like her own parents did. All of her siblings had families of their own as well, Bathsheba being the only one without children. She had hoped, prayed, cried out to God to bless her with a child. She longed to hear the pitter patter of small feet running through the house.

How long must I wait, Lord?

"Sheba?" Her servant, Serah, woke Bathsheba from her reverie. "My lady, I have drawn the water for your bath. Would you like to make use of it soon, before the water cools?"

"Yes, Serah, my apologies. Lead the way."

Serah pondered her mistress, whose somber expression was quickly replaced with a neutral one. She then turned on her heel and began hiking up the steps to the roof, where the bath awaited.

Bathsheba followed her servant to the rooftop and quickly stripped for the bath. She unbound her long, dark hair, and let it drape down her back for Serah to wash.

Having brought the rose with her, she picked off the petals one by one, letting them drop onto the water's surface.

Bathsheba sighed as she stepped into the tub. The water was warm and inviting.

Once a woman's menstrual bleeding had passed, Jewish law required her to purify herself by bathing. Bathsheba went through the motions, having completed this process too many times, too many months, years, with no children.

She felt herself becoming despondent again, but quickly turned her thoughts elsewhere. God would bless her in His own time, in His own way.

It was a cool evening, a light breeze brushing against her skin. Bathsheba had always preferred to take her ritual bath at night, when it was not likely that she would be seen. She enjoyed her privacy, with the streets empty and everyone else inside their homes.

Just a few minutes' walk from her home was the palace. During the day, she would often escape to the roof to watch the comings and goings of palace servants and messengers.

Rarely would she catch a glimpse of the king himself. From the stories she had heard, Bathsheba knew him to be a fair king and a successful soldier. She had heard his praises sung many a time by young women when his army returned to Jerusalem, having skillfully defeated Israel's enemies in battle.

Stepping out of the now cold water, Bathsheba allowed herself to be dried by the soft breeze before accepting the robe offered by Serah.

Having descended the steps from the roof, it was time to prepare for bed. She allowed her maidservant to help her out of her robe and into her nightdress.

"Goodnight, my lady," said Serah as she settled onto her sleeping mat across the room from Bathsheba's bed. She had taken to sleeping in Bathsheba's bedroom with her mistress when Uriah was gone, at her lady's request. They enjoyed each other's company.

Bathsheba settled under her blankets. Another night without Uriah sleeping by her side. She sent up a silent prayer before she fell asleep, asking for the Lord's protection over her husband.

Thank you, Lord, for your mercies.


	2. 2.

Having much on his mind, David found he could not sleep.

He slipped out of bed and put on a robe, deciding to enjoy some fresh air.

David stood on the balcony adjoining his quarters, enjoying the cool breeze of the evening while admiring Jerusalem's beauty. He had ruled over the united kingdom of Israel and Judah for slightly over ten years, and how she had flourished under his rule. He had greatly expanded Israel's territory, having driven many a neighboring enemy from their land.

His army had left for battle only weeks earlier, but he had already received promising news. The Israelite army had defeated the Ammonites in battle, and they would soon besiege the Ammonite capital city of Rabbah.

David should be with his loyal soldiers and commanders, he knew, but he had grown tired of war, having conquered many cities and peoples in years past. He felt as if he deserved a break from military duties. After all, he was the king. 

As his gaze drifted over the city, his eyes were drawn to a nearby house. A young woman was bathing on her roof, her long, dark hair cascading down the olive skin of her back. Though he knew he should look away and give her privacy, he found he could not. There was something about her that entranced him.

After a few moments, he realized that she seemed familiar. He had crossed paths with her before, but where? when? He blinked, trying to remember.

His curiosity piqued, David called for the soldier standing guard outside the doors to his rooms.

"Who is it that lives in this house?" He gestured to the roof of the house in question, the woman, now clothed, having finished bathing.

"Your majesty, I believe that is the home of Uriah the Hittite, your loyal soldier, and his wife," the soldier replied.

"And his wife? What is her name?"

The man paused, puzzled at the king's sudden interest. "Her name is Bathsheba, your majesty. She is the daughter of Eliam and granddaughter of your advisor, Ahithopel."

Of course.

David remembered now. He had seen her in passing before, though he recalled her as a young girl visiting her father and grandfather at the palace with her siblings, not as a beautiful young wife. 

"Send for her."

"Your majesty?"

"Send for her. Have her escorted to my chambers. I wish to speak with her." David knew the soldier probably suspected this was not entirely the case, but he would reveal nothing more. As king, he was under no obligation to explain himself.

"Yes, your majesty. Right away." The man hurried out of David's quarters to pass on the message.

David paced his quarters, impatiently awaiting the arrival of this lovely and alluring young woman. Though he had many wives and concubines in his harem, there was just something about this Bathsheba that had captured his attention, causing him to want to know more about her.

David vaguely remembered his soldier Uriah marrying two years previous, though he had not attended the wedding. From what he had heard, Bathsheba was one of the most beautiful among the soldiers' wives, drawing the admiration of men and envy of women wherever she went.

And now, it seemed, she had aroused the admiration of the king himself, for better or worse.

He believed Uriah to be a fortunate man, indeed.


	3. 3.

Bathsheba was startled awake by the sound of heavy knocking at her door. _Who could possibly be calling this late at night?_

Her servant Serah stood up from her sleeping mat and walked to the door, pausing before opening it. Bathsheba stretched and yawned, sitting up in her bed.

"Who is calling at this hour?" Bathsheba heard Serah shout to the unknown visitor.

A rough, impatient voice answered from the other side of the wooden door. "Messengers of the king, open the door!"

_Oh God, please no. Don't let it be terrible news._ Bathsheba's heart was nearly pounding out of her chest as she pulled on a robe for modesty and walked from her bedroom to within view of the doorway. Visibly unsettled, Serah slowly opened the door.

Two men stood in the doorway, dressed in palace uniform.

"Do you bring news?" Bathsheba timidly inquired, willing her voice not to shake.

Ignoring her question, one of the soldiers asked her, "Are you Bathsheba, wife of Uriah the Hittite?"

Bathsheba's throat went dry. "I am. Do you bring news? … o-of my husband?" Serah stood motionless, watching the exchange, the door still in her hand. 

"My lady, the king requests your presence. At once."

_The king? If my husband is dead, why not tell me now? Why would the king need to tell me himself?_

Bathsheba opened her mouth to voice her questions but quickly closed it. Knowing this was likely all the information the messengers would give her, she merely nodded and walked to her bedroom to slip into one of her more suitable tunics.

*******************

An air of tension filled the short walk to the palace. The two men seemed to know something she did not. They hardly acknowledge her, let alone spoke to her.

Upon reaching the palace gates, Bathsheba marveled at the beautiful architecture. She was even more awed by the inside, the sheer size of the halls, columns, doorways. There was hardly a sound to be heard this time of night save for that of her and the messengers' footsteps as the led her through the halls.

Having visited the palace many times as a child, she had all but memorized the halls and corridors. But the king's messengers were taking her into unfamiliar territory, hallways she had never been permitted to roam.

She the palace well enough to know that they had passed the throne room long ago. _Where else could they be taking me?_

They came to a stop in front of large, intricately carved doors. "This is where we leave you," said the younger of the two men as he knocked on and pushed open one of the doors. He didn't seem unhappy to be rid of her.

As the men walked off, Bathsheba slowly walked through the large doorway. Huge tapestries hung on the walls, surrounding beautiful, lavish furniture. This could only be the king's quarters. _But why?_

"Bathsheba. I'm glad to see you."

She turned to the sound of the voice to find a man with pleasing features staring back at her. This could be none other than the king. She remembered seeing him in passing a handful of times, first as a young girl visiting the palace, and then with her husband in more recent years. But never unescorted.

"Your majesty." She bowed her head, her eyes to the floor. "What news do you have of the battle? My husband, he is well?" _Please say yes. I do not wish to cry in the king's presence. Lord, please, let my husband be alright._

"The soldiers fare well," the king said abruptly.

_That's it? I was called here for this?_ She expected to be dismissed if he had nothing more of importance to say to her. 

"Your majesty, I..."

"I called you here..." the king seemed to hesitate before his next words, "because I saw you bathing. On your roof. And I simply had to see you." He was closer to her now.

The color drained from Bathsheba's face and her heart nearly stopped. _I had been watched? By the king, no less?_ She slowly looked up at the king, suddenly feeling exposed.

He must have noticed her reaction, for he came to stand even closer to her. _Too close._ She would have given anything to be in her husband's arms at this moment. Instead, she stood silent, hoping for the king to dismiss her.

Without warning, the king grabbed her chin and kissed her mouth. Bathsheba was frozen in place. It was not a kiss full of tenderness or love, but of hunger and lust. She attempted to pull away but the king held her tight by the waist with his free hand. _Lord, please. Help me._

"Your majesty, please," she whispered, unable to find her voice, her heart racing. "I am married."

"No one need find out," said the king. She was surprised he was even listening, his face in the curve of her neck. "I will have the palace staff sworn to secrecy." There was a hint of frustration in his tone, annoyance that she would dare resist him.

"Please, my king..." But he no longer heard her. At that moment, Bathsheba's apprehension heightened, fearing there may only be one way out of these chambers.

It seemed he had no intention of letting her leave, not before taking what he wanted. And he wanted _her._


	4. 4.

Bathsheba walked home, alone. She felt the shame and violation on every inch of her body. Arriving home, she quickly wiped the tears from her face, not wanting Serah to become suspicious.

The sin of adultery was punishable by death, she knew. But she wasn't afraid of death as much as she was fearful of her husband discovering her actions. Her and _the king's_ indiscretion. She didn't deserve Uriah. He would be heartbroken if he found out.

The king had roughly dismissed her almost as soon as he finished with her. As if he hadn't praised her beauty a short while before. He had sent for a servant to see her out, who left her alone at the palace gates to find her way home.

Opening the door to her home, Bathsheba was met by Serah, who, though she did not ask, had questions in her eyes. It seemed her faithful maidservant had waited up for her.

"My husband is doing fine, Serah." She mustered up a weak smile. "The army has not lost many men."

This statement seemed to raise more questions for her maidservant, though again, she refrained from asking. "That is great news indeed, my lady."

Bathsheba merely nodded. She blindly walked to her bedroom and undressed for bed yet again. She heard Serah follow her into the room and lay down on her sleeping mat.

Once in bed, Bathsheba hugged herself and again fought tears. If Serah heard her crying, it would arouse her suspicions even more.

 _I have degraded myself,_ she thought. _I'm no better than a common whore, giving my body to a man I hardly know._

Silent tears fell down her cheeks as she closed her eyes, sleep eluding her for much of the night.

********************

David had no desire to visit his harem for days afterward. He was too preoccupied with visions of the lovely woman he had held in his arms, had taken to his bed.

 _Bathsheba._ He wanted her again, but knew he had done far too much already. She had not resisted much, though he had seen the reluctance and sadness in her eyes. That hadn't stopped him though, for he had been too far gone.

"My lord?" David recognized his wife's voice before he saw her. "My lord, are you quite alright? It has been days since I have seen you last." Michal approached him in one of the halls near the harem.

"Yes, Michal, I'm perfectly fine," he said to her, harsher than he intended, irritated at the interruption of his thoughts.

Ignoring his rough tone, she continued. "A woman was escorted to your chambers a few days ago. Who was she?"

Michal, his first wife, was the daughter of Saul, the king of Israel before David. She had a habit of knowing everything that happened in the palace, including things she didn't need to know. This liaison being one.

David did not give her the satisfaction of reacting. He knew she had eyes and ears all around the palace. She likely already knew the answer to her own question, and was simply gauging his reaction.

"It is none of your concern," he said coolly, quickly brushing past her. He didn't need an interrogation from his wife. He was the king. He had no reason to explain his actions to her.

Michal watched her husband's form disappear down the long hallway, anger flickering in her dark eyes.


	5. 5.

Bathsheba sat alone in the garden adjoining her home. She admired the exquisite blooms that had steadily grown over the past weeks, showing their faces to the early warmth of spring. 

She and Serah had spent many hours preparing the soil and planting seeds, not only for flowers, but for vegetables and herbs most importantly. Though none were quite ready to be picked yet, Bathsheba enjoyed caring for them and watching them grow day by day.

Imagining the delicious meals to be made once the plants could be harvested, she suddenly experienced a wave of nausea at the thought of food. An unpleasant feeling she had been dealing with off and on for the past couple of weeks.

"My lady."

Bathsheba, startled from her thoughts, looked up into the worried face of her maidservant, Serah. Her _Her friend._ After all, only a few years separated them in age, Serah being just a few years younger. They had grown close in the past years.

"Come sit beside me," Bathsheba said.

Serah hesitated for a moment before joining her on the wooden bench.

The two women sat together for a few minutes, enjoying the day's cool breeze. Out of the corner of her eye, Bathsheba could see Serah's jaw working, as if she was about to speak, but saying nothing.

"What is wrong?" Serah nearly jumped at the intrusion to her thoughts. "You know you can speak freely to me," Bathsheba assured her.

Again, Serah hesitated, but this time, she spoke. "Sheba, I am worried..."

Bathsheba furrowed her brow. "Whatever about?"

"I am worried about you, Sheba."

"If you're concerned about me not breaking my fast this morning, I assure you, I am fine. I simply had no appetite." Bathsheba smiled in an effort to reassure her maidservant.

"No, it is not only that. Though you have been missing more meals than usual lately." Serah looked down at her hands, fidgeting. She had her suspicions as to the cause of her lady's recent unwellness, but did not know how to broach the subject in a polite manner without causing Bathsheba to feel insulted. Though her mistress was very kind, she still feared her reaction should her hunch be incorrect.

Bathsheba looked up at Serah, realizing that she was right. She'd had little appetite as of late. She hadn't been keeping track, but Serah, observant as she was, had paid attention to any deviation in her lady's habits.

There was an uncomfortable pause before Serah spoke again. Making up her mind, she sat up straight and turned toward Bathsheba. "You have missed your monthly courses again."

Bathsheba's stomach lurched. Serah would have noticed, for she was responsible for drawing a bath for her lady when her courses finished.

_No. It can't be._

She had pushed that night to the back of her mind. Now the memories came rushing back with Serah's words.

Of course Bathsheba had noticed that she had been feeling off lately, but she had dismissed her symptoms as simple maladies. The thought had crossed her mind, but, having been unable to conceive with her husband, she had told herself that her worries were unwarranted. Besides, she felt she had been punished enough with the guilt that had nearly eaten her alive for weeks after.

Bathsheba felt her face burn with shame. Her head in her hands, a tear escaped and fell to the ground. She felt Serah's eyes watching, pitying. She deserved no such pity. She had sinned. Committed adultery. And now, it seemed, everyone would know.

She told Serah everything, save for some of the most intimate details.

Her body now wracked with sobs, she spoke in a low voice. "I have sinned against God and my husband, and now I will surely pay for it."

Serah moved closer to her friend in an effort to comfort her. There was nothing she could say. She had known.

Of course she had been suspicious of Bathsheba being called to the palace so late. Whatever the king's message was, he could surely have just sent a single messenger. At the time, Serah had pushed the worried thoughts from her head. Surely the king could send a summons if news was urgent.

But when Bathsheba had returned home some hours later, with a tear-streaked face that she had tried her best to hide, Serah knew. But she remained silent. It would have done no good to press the matter at the time.

"When I am found out..." Bathsheba's stomach twisted in fear. Even if she told the truth, who would believe her?

According to Jewish law, the punishment for adultery was death. The city elders would have her dragged from her home and stoned.

"My lady," Serah spoke up quietly. "If I may make a suggestion..."

She took her lady's silence as permission to continue.

"Perhaps you could inform the king. It is his responsibility," Serah said hopefully.

Bathsheba sniffled and looked up. She had considered that herself.

"You are right," she said.

She stood with purpose, walking into the house to find some ink and parchment. She would deliver the message to the palace herself this night.


	6. 6.

Bathsheba nervously made her way to the palace gates. She wore a cloak that covered her head, so as to not be recognized. She felt humiliated enough running this _errand._

More than once, she fought back nausea, feeling she might be sick.

Upon reaching the gates, a guard called out to hear, asking her purpose.

She felt a pang of humiliation as she recognized the voice. He had been one of the guards sent to retrieve her that night, not so long ago.

She stood straight, not willing to show any fear. "I have a message for the king," she said meeting his eyes. She handed the letter to him.

He glanced at it briefly, then looked back up at her. "Who shall I say it is from, my lady?" the guard asked, perhaps, by the look on his face, already knowing the answer.

Without hesitation, Bathsheba said, "The king will know who has sent it." Turning on her heel, Bathsheba hurried back to her home, ignoring the guard's leering gaze and unable to stem the flow of tears any longer.

***************

David received a knock on the doors to his chambers, late at night. Irritated at the interruption, he pushed himself off of his couch. Opening the door, he was greeted by a servant holding a small piece of parchment.

"Your majesty, a message has come for you."

Taking the parchment, the king thought to ask the servant who it was from. "Who sent it?"

"I don't know, my lord. I was told the woman did not say," the young servant said meekly.

_Woman?_

"Thank you, you may go now," David said dismissing the servant.

His curiosity piqued, he strode to his study adjoining his rooms. Breaking the seal, he unfolded the small piece of parchment.

The message was short, only four words.

_I am with child._


	7. 7.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback.

_His hands were on her waist, pulling her impossibly closer, pressing his hips against hers. She was unable to pull away, despite her best efforts._

_His mouth was trailing along her exposed neck, his hot breath searing her skin._

_"My lord, please," she said for what had to be the twentieth time. But, of course, he was not listening._

_Her protests going unheeded, she resumed her silent panic. It dawned on her that there may be no way out of this._

_His mouth leaving her neck, he reached up and removed her head covering, ignoring her protests. Her long, black hair, falling in small waves down her back, was even more beautiful up close._

_"You are exquisite, aren't you?" he breathed. The words meant nothing to her coming from him. He most likely had spoken similar words to dozens of women before her. She felt disgusted. Only her husband's praise of her beauty held any meaning._

_Uriah. She held back tears at the thought of her loving husband, away fighting the king's battles, undoubtedly looking forward to returning home and reuniting with his wife. The wife who was now in the arms of the very king he fought for._

_In an effort she already knew to be futile, she pushed her hands against the king's chest, hoping one last time that he would release her and allow her to return home. She felt his rapid heartbeat underneath her fingertips and knew her act of resistance had been useless._

_"You're not going anywhere," he said roughly, his lips mere inches from hers. Her heart sank. She knew further attempts to persuade him to let her leave would be for nothing._

_**God forgive me,** she prayed silently. He could use her, but he wouldn't break her. She wouldn't let him._

_"Look at me." The king grabbed her chin and forced her to meet his eyes._

_"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes upon," he said, his breath coming faster now._

_With both hands, he held her face and pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss was filled with hunger and anticipation, his tongue pushing its way into her mouth. She resisted the urge to vomit._

_Without warning, he lifted her up, one hand under her back and the other under her knees. He walked over to his bed, gently laying her on it._

_He climbed on top of her, straddling her waist with his knees. He pushed the top of her tunic down, exposing her chest. She closed her eyes in shame. This was something only a husband was meant to do, to see._

_He began trailing kisses down her chest._

_She allowed herself to get a better glimpse of him. He was handsome in almost a boyish type of way, though he was undoubtedly many years her senior, with his curly dark hair that bore a few streaks of grey. And his eyes. Hazel, almost brown. Perhaps if circumstances were different... **This man is not my husband. I should not be thinking of him this way.**_

_She was jolted back to reality by him pulling his tunic over his head and tossing it carelessly to the floor, revealing his bare chest. She looked away, hot shame burning her face._

_He gently grasped her face and forced her to meet his eyes. He caressed her cheek._

_"There is no need to be ashamed, my dear," he whispered. "You are no virgin."_

_"My lord, I..."_

_He silenced her by again pressing his mouth to hers in an open-mouthed kiss as she felt his hand pushing up her skirt, fingers brushing against her thigh._

_She squeezed her eyes shut._

_"My love," she heard him breathe against her cheek._

_She shifted underneath him. His breath hitched._

_His hand roaming further up her thigh, she sent up a silent prayer. If God even received it at this moment, if His back wasn't turned, it would be a miracle. She again forced back tears._

_She felt his knees between her legs. His right hand grasped hers, clasping their fingers together. Like a lover would._

_He squeezed her hand harder, pushing it into the bed in an attempt to steady himself._

_From that moment on, every second felt like an eternity._

_He wouldn't break her. She wouldn't let him._


	8. 8.

_I am with child._

The words stared David in the face, forcing them into his memory. _What have I done?_

He ran his hand over his face, thinking. _This will surely condemn us both._

He tossed the parchment into the fire that warmed his chambers. He watched the flames slowly consume it.

He nervously paced the floor, considering his options. 

Illegitimate children by a king were not uncommon. The child, should it be a son, would simply not be eligible for the throne.

It was the woman he was worried about. _This will ruin her._ And the child, he couldn't let anything happen to his child.

There was even the very real possibility that Bathsheba could be executed for adultery, should she be found out. He couldn't sit back and watch the mother of his child die.

Besides, he could do without the rumors and scandal his indiscretion would surely bring. He had a reputation to maintain.

He strode through the palace halls, looking for a servant, any servant. The hour was late. Many would be sleeping in their quarters by now.

He soon came across one who appeared to be on his way there now. Catching up to him, out of breath, David was sure he had startled the poor man.

Turning around, the man bowed. "Yes, my lord?"

The king cleared his throat, speaking in a low voice. "I have a message for you to send, immediately."

****************

Joab sat at his desk, deep in thought. As commander of the king's army, he had the responsibility of strategically planning each battle. 

So far, few Israelite soldiers had been lost. It would seem the tides were in their favor.

One of his guards entered his tent, interrupting his train of thought. "A messenger from the king has arrived, sir."

"Send him in." Joab impatiently tapped his fingers on his desk.

A young messenger walked in, handing him a letter bearing the king's seal.

"Thank you," Joab said, dismissing the man. "You may go."

He began opening the missive as the messenger backed out of the commander's tent. He thought it strange. He wondered what could be so urgent.

Joab scanned the short message, frowning. _An odd request._

But one with which he would comply.

He called for his guard.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Bring me Uriah the Hittite. The king wishes to see him."

***************

David nervously walked back to his chambers. Upon Uriah's arrival, he had made small talk with him, asking after Joab, the soldiers, the fighting. Satisfied with Uriah's responses, David then sent him home.

"Go home, wash your feet, sleep with your wife," he had said. "You are one of my very best warriors. You deserve that much."

Uriah had bowed to him, a show of respect. Respect David felt he did not deserve. "Yes, my king."

After the soldier had left, David hurried back to his chambers, his mind racing.

_Would it work?_

He sat on his couch, head in his hands, eyes squeezed shut. With any luck, Uriah would sleep with his wife and the child would be passed off as his, and no one would be the wiser.

For Bathsheba's sake, he hoped.

_Bathsheba._

He had many women in his harem. He could go to any of them, at any time he desired. So why was she the only woman on his mind? He constantly found himself thinking of her.

He groaned. He had been plagued with guilt for the way he had treated her. He had taken her, another man's wife, to his bed. He had made love to her and immediately after had sent her away. She had not been his to take, but what was done was done. He needed to fix this, by any means necessary. He only hoped he would not be forced to do anything drastic.


	9. 9.

As David entered the throne room the next morning, a servant hurriedly approached him. 

"My lord." He bowed. "Uriah did not go home last night."

David stopped in his tracks, suddenly unnerved. "Where could he have possibly gone, then?"

The servant hesitated. "He slept on the palace steps with other servants, your majesty."

David's jaw clenched. "Send for him."

"Yes, your majesty." The servant scurried away to do his bidding.

**************

Uriah stopped in front of the throne, bowing. "You sent for me, my king?"

David skipped the formalities and cut straight to the chase. "You did not return home last night. Why?" He couldn't help but wonder why he wouldn't want to go home to his beautiful wife. Surely he had missed her.

Uriah seemed almost puzzled by the question, as if the answer was obvious.

"My lord, the ark of the covenant and the priests are staying in tents, and your commander and soldiers are camped in the open country!" Uriah said pointedly. "My conscience would not allow me to eat and drink and be with my wife while my comrades are on the front lines. I could not do such a thing."

David furrowed his brow. _So this is how it's going to be. A righteous man, indeed._

Uriah watched him, confused at the king's reaction. Surely David knew it wouldn't be right to go home while his fellow men were at war.

David straightened, making a decision. "Uriah, I invite you to stay here one more day, and I will send you back tomorrow."

The warrior nodded. "Yes, your majesty. Thank you."

"But, before you go, I would invite you to dine with me this evening," David said. "It is the least I can do for my most loyal soldier."

"It would be my honor, your majesty."

**********************

Late that evening, Uriah was escorted out of the king's dining hall, visibly drunk. He and the king had had a fine meal, as well as some fine wine. Well, perhaps too much wine. For Uriah, anyway. 

But David had made sure that he drank little. He needed to be sober to send Uriah home that evening before returning to battle tomorrow.

_Surely too much drink would make him want his wife._

But the king would have no such luck.

The next morning, David was informed that, again, Uriah had slept on the palace steps with the servants and had not returned home.

David had a decision to make. And it would prove to be a difficult one.


	10. 10.

David hardly slept that night, desperate to find another solution.

Whatever the outcome, he did not want anything to happen to his child. He needed to take responsibility for it. He did not want the woman to be shamed either, or worse, stoned to death upon discovery. He told himself that whatever he had to do, it would be for her. For the child. _Sure._

He pushed the doubt aside.

He stood up and paced his floor. It would be of no use to order Uriah to his home once more. That plan had failed. Twice.

The king was at a loss. With Uriah in the picture, there did not seem to be much that he could do, not without arousing the man's suspicion. More than he already had, anyway. He winced, thinking of how easily he and Bathsheba could be found out if Uriah decided to start asking questions. Sure, the palace staff that knew anything had been threatened with punishment to stay silent, but David was paranoid. Servants could be bribed.

He cursed. If only Uriah had simply followed his orders. But the man was made of honor, he couldn't possibly be expected to disrespect his battle-weary fellow soldiers. _You couldn't make this easy, could you?_

The simplest solution in situations like this were to marry the girl. But of course, in this case, that was out of the question.

_Or was it?_

He thought for a moment. If Uriah were gone, that would mean...

The man was a soldier. Men often died in battle. A death at the end of an enemy sword would come as little surprise and would cause no suspicion. But Uriah was a tried warrior. He would not be struck down so easily. The fighting would have to be especially intense.

David's heart pounded. He could hardly believe what he was about to do.

He began writing a letter to his army commander, Joab, to be sent with Uriah when he set off on his journey back to the army camp tomorrow morning. He needed to write quickly before he lost his nerve.

As soon as the ink was dry, he folded the letter, poured the wax, and stamped it with his seal. Joab would have no choice but to comply.

Even after the king had come to a decision, he found he still could not sleep.

***************

A feeling of dread swept over David as he watched Uriah leave the city the next morning. The man was carrying the letter that was to seal his fate. 

David swallowed. He had been left with little choice.

_Put Uriah out on the front lines where the fighting is fiercest. Then retreat from him so he will be struck down and killed._

***************

A few weeks later, Bathsheba heard light knocking on her door.

In a hurry to see who was calling, she pushed down hope that they were men sent by the king. The king had all but forgotten about her, she knew. And his child.

Mustering up the courage to face whatever this visit would bring, she opened the door. This time, instead of two guards, there was a sole messenger. He handed her a letter.

"My lady," he said before nodding his head and hurrying on his way.

Serah, having heard the door open, quickly walked over to Bathsheba. "A letter from the king, my lady?" she asked, noticing what appeared to be the king's seal.

Barely hearing what Serah was saying, Bathsheba all but tore open the letter. The words that awaited her on the page sent shock waves through her.

_Your husband, Uriah the Hittite, had fallen in battle._


	11. 11.

Having been a soldier's wife for the past two years, Bathsheba knew that there was always the distinct possibility of being widowed as a direct cause of war.

But nothing had prepared her for this moment, for it to happen to her. For her husband to die, to leave her. Forever. 

She could hardly bear to imagine his last moments. She knew they must have been filled with the bravery he was well-known for. _Had he thought of her?_

She would never again feel his gentle touch, never again smile at the sound of his infectious laughter. _She would never bear his child._

Bathsheba wrapped her arms around her slowly-growing midsection. The fact that she had been unfaithful to her husband only served to heighten her grief.

After scanning the letter that had slipped from Bathsheba's hand to the floor, Serah instantly dropped to her knees beside her mistress and began to comfort her. She wept for him too, for he had been a kind master and a devoted husband to her lady.

Bathsheba sat for hours in the spot in which she had fallen, unable to do anything but weep.

Nearing nightfall, Serah considered offering her mistress some food as she must have been nearly famished, but thought better of it. She knew Bathsheba well enough to know that she would not eat supper, and would most likely not each much the next day, either. 

Instead, she slowly helped Bathsheba up from her place of mourning on the floor and into the bedroom to prepare her for bed.

It was a long night. Neither of them slept. Muffled sobs could be heard from Bathsheba's side of the room for most of the night, save for small intervals where, having exhausted herself, she fell asleep. Serah struggled to hold back her own tears.

The next morning, Bathsheba did not eat, but had managed to compose herself enough to eat a small meal at midday. Serah observed her mistress from across the small table. She appeared so small and fragile compared to the burden now on her shoulders.

The two ate in silence for several minutes.

"What am I to do, Serah?"

The maidservant was startled from her thoughts by her mistress's unexpected question. "My lady?"

"What is to become of me? My husband is now dead and I carry the child of another man. I'm going to die for this, aren't I?"

Saying it aloud made it feel all too real. At least in death, she would be joined with her husband.

Bathsheba began to cry again, and Serah, who always seemed to know how to help, was at a loss.

*************

It was done.

David had received word that Uriah, one his best fighting men, had been killed on the front line of battle.

He waited for the relief that would surely come, but it never did.


	12. 12.

Following a long funeral procession with many mourners, Uriah was buried in the tomb of his ancestors.

Bathsheba did not wail or cry out like so many mourners did. She stood in silence, tears of both grief and regret running down her face as her beloved husband was laid to rest.

When all of the required prayers and verses, Bathsheba and Serah slowly began the walk back to their home. The home that now felt so much emptier without her husband.

As they walked past the many family members and mourners, a familiar voice caught her ear. _The king._ She slowly turned around, meeting his eyes as he briefly looked up from speaking with one of his guards. His eyes widened in recognition, and something else... longing? She recognized that look.

Bathsheba turned away angrily, ignoring stares from the mourners still present and fighting another onslaught of tears. She just wanted to hurry away from there. From the mourning, the condolences, the pity. _The king._

She blindly found her way back home, tears blurring her vision. Having grown up here, she knew the streets of Jerusalem by heart. Serah was right at her heel, struggling to keep up with Bathsheba's pace. She didn't dare say a word. Not now.

Upon arriving at her home, Bathsheba quietly informed her maidservant that she needed to be alone. She trudged to the garden to sit with her whirlwind of thoughts.

 _What respectable man would bed another man's wife and leave her to deal with the consequences alone?_ For he surely wouldn't face any. No one would believe her. _And he calls himself a man of God?_

_He is the king, he knows better than anyone the penalty for adultery. Why would he not help me when knows I will inevitably be found out?_

_He had forgotten me until today,_ she told herself. But in her heart, the tiniest glimmer of hope refused to be snuffed out.

**************

Thirty days of mourning passed, each day spent in reflection and recitation of prayers and verses. Bathsheba prayed daily for God to give her peace to ease her inner turmoil.

Still only two people besides her knew: Serah and the king. Her sisters didn't know. Her brother didn't know. Her father didn't know. She had told none of her friends. They were not even aware of her having been summoned to the palace. She had isolated herself from everyone, hoping they would attribute her behavior to her mourning.

**************

The day after her thirty days of mourning were past, a knock at her door again revealed two palace guards. _What now?_

"What is it?" Bathsheba asked, gritting her teeth at their presence. 

One of the guards crossed his arms and said, "The king has ordered us to have you brought to your own chambers at the palace. At your leisure."

Bathsheba was beyond the point of confusion. _Is this some kind of sick joke?_ " _My_ chambers? Whatever are you talking about? I am no royalty!"

"My lady, he wishes to make you so."

She searched his face as his meaning dawned on her. "He wishes to make me his wife?"

"Yes, my lady."

Bathsheba's mind raced with the turn of events. Become his wife? _More like **one** of his wives,_ she thought with anger.

"And if I refuse?" Deep down she knew she had no other choice if she wished her life to be spared.

"I do not believe the king was asking, my lady."


	13. 13.

In a small ceremony at the palace, Bathsheba and David were made husband and wife.

And that was the last of him she saw for weeks. She knew he was avoiding her. _Good. I do not wish to see him or hear his sorry attempts at excuses._

She had been doing her best to adapt to life in the palace, getting used to the comings and goings of multiple servants and remembering when to appear for evening meals, but the other women in the harem were not making it easy. Sitting at the long table in the palace dining hall, most of the king's wives would either glare daggers at her or ignore her presence completely. She knew they despised her presence.

Especially Michal, the king's first wife as Bathsheba soon found out, and was not allowed to forget. 

"You are nothing but the king's whore. You don't belong here," she had whispered to Bathsheba in passing one afternoon. "He will forget you soon enough."

Her words hurt because they weren't far from the truth. Perhaps he _had_ forgotten her. Again. Though perhaps that would not be such a bad thing, as she had no desire to see or speak to him. He disgusted her.

She held her head high, refusing to let the other women see her pain, and soon the insults trickled to a minimum when they could not longer get a rise out of her.

But there was a single bright spot that would emerge during her first weeks spent in the king's harem. She had managed to make a friend in one of his wives, Abigail, a woman who seemed wise beyond her years and appeared to have a genuine compassion for everyone.

"Do not pay Michal any heed," she had told Bathsheba, gently squeezing her hand and giving her a kind smile. "She has her own reasons for being bitter, for she has been through a lot."

Her friend and maidservant, Serah, was also there to constantly remind her that the cruel words of his wives mattered not. "You are here for a reason," she said. "Trust in God and believe that He has a plan for you."

Bathsheba smiled weakly. For someone so young, Serah had much wisdom to offer.

******************

One afternoon, as Bathsheba was admiring the view of the city from her balcony, a knock sounded from the doors to her chambers.

Expecting a servant, she called for the visitor to enter. Her back turned, she did not see who it was that walked in.

She heard footsteps, yet no one announced their presence. Curious, she turned around.

It was the king. She quickly turned her back, not wishing to speak to him.

He lightly took her arm and turned her to face him. He cupped her face. "I have missed you."

Angered, she grabbed his forearms and pushed him away. "Do not touch me." She walked past him into the main room of her chambers.

She expected a scolding, something along the lines of _I'm the king, you can't speak to me that way._

Instead, he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "I am sorry."

She stopped, uncertain of what she had just heard. "You're _sorry_?" She laughed bitterly.

"Yes, if you would hear me..."

"No, my _king_ ," she spat, "You will hear _me._ You got me with child while I was married to another man, and now he is dead, because of _you_! Because of _your_ precious wars! Because of..." She trailed off, too livid to continue, tears threatening to spill over.

David winced. Everything she had said was true. Every bit of it, and he couldn't deny it. _She hated him._ And he deserved every ounce of her hatred.

"I wish to make things right between us," he finally managed to say.

"By making me your royal whore?"

His eyes shot up to meet hers, and he quickly closed the distance between them. "What?" He shook his head, trying to think. "That is not the truth, I..."

"If you truly want to be of some help to me, then I suggest you leave me alone," she spat.

His jaw clenched as he studied her. He turned on his heel and strode out of her chambers, the doors slamming shut behind him.

Bathsheba slowly sank down onto her couch and wept.


	14. 14.

Months passed without further interaction between her and the king. He had tried to be respectful of her wishes to be left alone.

He'd had little time to see Bathsheba even if he had wanted to. He found himself constantly busy with state affairs, and, when he did have a spare moment, one of his wives would pine for his attention, or one of his several children wished to see him. But his heart was not in it.

His mind constantly drifted back to _her._

*************

Nearing the end of her pregnancy, Bathsheba was preparing herself for the birth of her first child. Despite the circumstances in which the child was conceived, she was excited to finally become a mother.

She would often think of Uriah, of what might have been had they been able to have a family of their own. He would have made a good father, she knew. She desperately wished this child had been his and not the king's.

The midwife had told her that it would be good for her to do some walking. So, with Serah's help, Bathsheba strolled through the palace, the gardens, and sometimes just her chambers if she was feeling especially tired.

It was on one of these days when she was mindlessly roaming her chambers that the king let himself in unannounced.

"Bathsheba."

She turned around at the sound of his voice. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Serah, could you give us a moment alone, please?"

Nodding, her maidservant left her quarters, waiting outside the doors should she be needed.

David slowly walked in her direction. "I'm glad to see you doing well, my dear."

She smiled coolly, not meeting his eyes. "Thank you, your majesty."

David frowned at her formal address. "I have missed you." He pushed a stray hair from her face and cupped her cheek. To his surprise and relief, she didn't stop him.

Bathsheba had almost missed him as well. She had grown to appreciate the little things he would do for her, all the while keeping his distance. She had often returned to her rooms to find a handwritten note, a flower from the gardens, or other small gifts. She knew he was trying to win her affections.

Before she could respond, she was gripped by pain slicing through her abdomen. She blindly grabbed for David's hand. He winced as she squeezed.

"Are you..."

She nodded, unable to vocalize.

David hurried to the door and found Serah, patiently waiting.

"Fetch the midwife. Now."

***************

Hours later, Bathsheba gave birth to her first child, a healthy son. At his first cry, she was already in love with him. _He couldn't be more perfect._

David was elated at the news of another son. Another heir. _With the most beautiful woman as his mother._

***************

When the child was but a day old, David received a visitor.

Nathan, a renowned prophet of God, had advised the king of the word of the Lord many times throughout his reign, though it had been a little over a year since David had seen him last.

"How good it is to see you, Nathan!" David said, embracing the older man.

"Likewise, your majesty." His frail voice and body betrayed a strength of will. Nathan had never shied away from rebuking David when he erred in his ways, but was always willing to help him find his way back to the narrow path.

"Has the Lord sent you?" inquired the king.

"Yes, your majesty. I am to tell you a story."


	15. 15.

David thought it strange that the Lord would have sent the man all this way for a simple story. Curiosity piqued, he listened as Nathan began his story.

"There were two men, rich and poor, from the same town. The rich man owned a very large number of sheep and cattle, whereas the poor man had only one ewe lamb that he had saved up to buy. He raised this lamb, and it lived and grew up with him and his children. He shared his food and drink with it and even slept with it in his arms. It was like a child to him."

David frowned, wondering at the importance of this tale.

"Then came a time when the wealthy man received a traveler, a guest in his home. But, instead of taking one of his many sheep or cattle to prepare a meal for this traveler, he took the lamb that belonged to the poor man and used it to prepare a meal for his guest."

Nathan bowed his head, having finished his story.

David became enraged upon hearing how the poor man had been treated. "As surely as the Lord lives, the man who did this must die!" he said, his voice rising in anger. "He shall be obligated to pay for that lamb four times over for doing such a thing and having no pity."

Nathan steeled his gaze. He slowly raised his arm and pointed a gnarled finger at the king. "You are that man!"

The color drained from David's face as realization dawned.

"This is what the Lord, the God of Israel says: 'I anointed you as king over Israel, and I delivered you from the hands of your enemy. I gave you your master's house and his wives. I gave you all of Israel and Judah. And if all of this had not been enough, I would have given you more. Why then, did you disregard the word of the Lord and do something so evil in his eyes? You killed Uriah the Hittite with the sword of your enemies and took his wife as your own. Now, the sword will never depart from your household, because you have disregarded me and taken Uriah's wife as your own."

David fell to his knees, his eyes closed.

Nathan continued.

"This is what the Lord says: 'I will bring destruction on you from out of your own household. Before your eyes I will take your wives and give them to one close to you, and he will lie with them in broad daylight. You have done this in secret, but I will do this thing in broad daylight for all Israel to see.'"

David, still on his knees, hung his head. "I have sinned against God." _Am I to die for this?_

As if hearing David's thoughts, Nathan again spoke and said, "God has removed your sin. You will not die. But because your actions showed utter contempt for God, the son born to you will die."

At this, Nathan left David.

The full weight of what the prophet had said came to rest on his shoulders. He picked himself up and nearly ran to the nursery. _His son._ He needed to see him.

Before reaching the nursery, he could hear the shrill cry of a baby. He rushed in, seeing the wet nurse and Bathsheba both frantic with worry.

"My son, how is he? What has happened?"

"My lord," the wet nurse responded, "I don't know why, but the child only just came down with a high fever. He was perfectly well and healthy this morning. I don't know what has happened to make him so ill so quickly..."

Now knowing what else to do, he pulled Bathsheba aside. "My dear, come with me, we must pray."

Bathsheba eyed him cautiously. "My king, what is it?"

He motioned for Bathsheba to follow him outside of the nursery, away from the crying infant and the wet nurse's ears.

He took her hands and covered them with his own. They were shaking.

"I have been visited this day by the prophet of the Lord, Nathan." He paused, gathering his breath.

She searched his eyes, unsure of how to react.

He continued. "I have sinned against God, and for that, God has said our child is to die."

No! No, no, no, this cannot happen!" Bathsheba stuttered frantically. "No, God, not my child! Take me instead, please..."

David held her, sobbing against his chest. "We will pray. We will fast. We will do everything we can to save him."


	16. 16.

For seven days, the child was sick.

For seven days, David was tormented by the fact that his young child may be taken from him for the sins of his father.

For seven days, he fasted and prayed in desperation for his son to be spared.

During this time of desperation, David felt inspired to write his emotions in a poem, a psalm, to be put to music and sung in worship unto the Lord, as he often did. In this poem, he poured out his heart to God, confessing his sins and praying for mercy and redemption.

_Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love._

_I know my transgressions... Against you I have sinned._

_Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be white as snow._

_Create in me a pure heart, O God._

_Do not cast me from your presence... Restore to me the joy of your salvation._

_My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart..._

************

On the seventh day, David noticed an air of apprehension surrounding his servants. They were gathering amongst themselves, whispering to each other more than was usual.

Upon finishing his prayers, he approached a small group of servants outside of his chambers. They watched him nervously as he neared them. He must ask the question to which he dreaded hearing the answer.

"Has the child died?" he quietly asked.

The servants did not appear startled at his question; rather, they seemed to have expected it. One spoke up, bowing his head. "Yes, my lord. The child has died, just this morning. I am sorry."

David stood in silence for a moment. "Why has no one told me until now?"

"Forgive me, my lord, but we were afraid to tell you. You seemed so desperate these past seven days and we feared your reaction...

The king wordlessly turned and reentered his chambers.

He ran his hands over his face, hardening his resolve. There was nothing more he could do. No amount of weeping or fasting could bring his child back to him.

He bathed and donned fresh clothing.

David made his way to the house of the Lord to worship. _Lord, I don't understand your ways, but I trust in you. Direct my paths._

Upon finishing his prayers and worship, the king called for his attendant.

"Yes, my lord?" the servant asked, watching him curiously.

"Have a meal prepared and ready in the dining hall. I wish to eat and break my fast."

The attendant, furrowing his brow, nodded. "Yes, my lord. It shall be done." He turned and left to do the king's bidding.

*****************

As he was preparing to leave the dining hall after finishing his meal, David was approached by his attendant. He had a worried look on his face.

"My king," he said, bowing his head, "forgive my impertinence, but I must ask. Why are you doing this? Only yesterday, you were fasting and weeping, but now that the child is dead, you get up and eat."

David understood why the man would wonder. "While the child was living, I fasted and wept, thinking that perhaps the Lord may spare him. Now that he has died, fasting will do nothing. It will not bring him back to me."

******************

David made his way to Bathsheba's chambers, wishing to see his wife. It had only been a few days since the death of their son, and he knew her grief would still be raw, like his own.

He became anxious upon realizing he must come clean to her. He could no longer live with himself, hiding this terrible secret from her. The role he had played in her husband's death.

 _He is dead because of you!"_ she had said, the full truth of her words unknown to her.

He lightly knocked on her door. Receiving no response, he slowly pushed it open.


	17. 17.

Bathsheba stood upon hearing the door to her rooms open and close. It could only be David. He never announced himself when he visited, whether she liked it or not.

He stopped upon entering her bedroom, sharing with her a look of mutual pain and loss.

He looked down at the floor, his jaw clenching, heart racing.

"My lord, would you like to sit?" Bathsheba's voice wavered, interrupting his thoughts.

His eyes darted between her and the floor. "No, I..." he paused, straightening. "Bathsheba, there is something I must tell you. I must apologize."

Bathsheba opened her mouth to speak, but stopped upon noticing the anxious look in his eyes.

He stepped closer to her, but not daring to touch her. Not now. He couldn't lose his resolve.

She looked up at him, puzzled. "My lord, I am sure that whatever it is, you are forgiven..."

"Bathsheba, listen to me," he finally said. "I bedded you, another man's wife. I got you with child, and now our son has _died_ because of my sins. It should have been _me_ who died. I do not deserve anyone's mercy. I..."

Bathsheba reached out to touch his face, but he turned away, wincing internally at the hurt in her eyes. "My king, it is forgiven!"

"No, Bathsheba. You don't understand. What I have done is unforgivable, something that you do not know."

She stared at him, her apprehension growing by the second.

His face was to the floor once again, his jaw working. He again spoke, this time so low she had to strain to hear his words.

"I sent the order for your husband to be killed. I am responsible for his death."

Bathsheba's eyes shot up to meet his, her heart dropping to the floor. "You... you had him killed? I... I do not understand. But why? I..." Her voice began to falter.

David sighed deeply. "At the time, I thought..."

She rushed toward him, tears spilling over. "You thought _what_ , exactly? That you could hide one sin with another?"

He was silent for a moment. "I intended to marry you and pass off the child as legitimate. That way, you would not be shamed."

"So you did it for _me,_ then? Because it sounds to me like you did it to save yourself a scandal. You couldn't have Israel's beloved king seen as an adulterer, could you?" Tears now streamed down her face, the pain of her loss becoming fresh again.

"Bathsheba, no, I..." but he found no other words to say. She spoke the truth. He had been selfish, wanting to save face. He had _killed_ her husband, to keep his _pride_ intact. _God forgive me._

He expected her to scream at him, to hit him. But she only stood there, with hatred in her eyes.

"Both my husband and my child are dead. Because of you."

David closed his eyes, unable to look at her.

"Please, leave me. Leave me alone. I can't bear to see you any longer."

***************

As soon as the king left, Bathsheba fell to the ground, feeling the pain of betrayal.

Serah had heard the entire exchange from the other room. She walked in to comfort her mistress, and ran to her upon seeing her on her knees.

She sank to the floor beside Bathsheba and held her in her arms. What she needed right now was a friend.

"My husband..." Bathsheba managed between sobs. "The king had him killed. I..." She trailed off.

"My lady," Serah began cautiously, "I know you are in no place to forgive him now, but give it time. Perhaps, one day, you will find it in your heart to do so."

Bathsheba didn't respond. She had no desire to think of forgiveness.


	18. 18.

Two months passed without Bathsheba seeing the king.

She wanted to hate him for what he had done, but she found she was unable to. _Why?_

She remembered Serah's words. _You are here for a reason,_ she told herself.

_Use me, oh Lord, in accordance with your will._

**************

David slipped into Bathsheba's quarters, for the first time in months.

He knew it would do no good to request her presence in his chambers, for she would simply refuse to come. He needed to go to her instead.

He had missed her. He felt he had waited long enough. He needed to know if she hated him, if she rejected him, _if she could ever care for him._

For he found he surely cared for her, and perhaps even loved her.

He found her standing on her balcony yet again, staring out at the stars in the night sky over the city.

He looked for the maidservant to dismiss her, but remembered she would probably be in her own room in the servant's quarters at this late hour.

"Bathsheba," he said quietly as he approached her.

She made no move to turn around.

Standing beside her now, he needed to ask. "Bathsheba, do you hate me? Can you ever forgive me?"

A moment passed. Finally turning to look at him, she said, "No, my lord, I do not hate you."

David stood silent, waiting for her to answer his second question, his heart racing.

"Perhaps one day, my lord, I will be able to fully forgive you. That is my current struggle."

He sighed, whether out of relief or sadness, he did not know. But her answer satisfied him for now. Even though he did not deserve her forgiveness, he could not bear to live the rest of his life without it. He knew that much. 

"Thank you, my lady." He turned to leave.

Bathsheba hesitated before going after him and grabbing his arm. "Please stay. I do not wish to be alone."

Turning around and meeting her eyes, he nodded. "If you wish it."

"I do, my lord," she said with a small smile.

David returned the smile. He leaned slightly forward so that his forehead was resting against hers. "I have missed you," he whispered.

"And I you."

He found himself looking at her mouth, and moved his eyes back up to meet hers. She smiled and nodded.

He kissed her lightly at first, his hands on her waist, barely holding himself back. He had missed her, too much.

Bathsheba's arms made their way around his neck, pulling him closer. She sighed.

His mouth traveled from her face to her neck, her shoulder, his thumbs caressing her hips.

Making his way back to her face, he kissed her again, more hungrily this time. Their lips moved together, a perfect rhythm.

Pulling away, he searched her eyes for the same longing that he felt. Finding it, he gently lifted her by the waist, her legs wrapped around him, and moved to the next room.


	19. Epilogue

Some time later, Bathsheba gave birth to a son that they named Solomon, meaning "peaceful" or "wise."

David received word through the prophet Nathan that because the Lord loved this child, He wanted him to be given the name Jedidiah, meaning "loved by the Lord."

Bathsheba would go on to give him three more sons, one named Nathan, perhaps in honor of the prophet of the Lord that David held in such high esteem.

Solomon, Bathsheba's son, was sworn by David in his old age to be his successor to the throne, even though he was not his firstborn. This was unusual for the time. A king's eldest legitimate son would normally inherit the crown, and David had several sons older than Solomon. Based on this, it would appear that David held his wife Bathsheba in high regard, and was perhaps even his favorite.

Although the Scriptures do not say, a substantial change must have taken place in David and Bathsheba's relationship for David to swear to her that their son would be king after him.

As king, Solomon would go on to build the temple, a large, ornate building for worship of Israel's God, and was well-known across the land for his God-given wisdom.

Perhaps this had been Bathsheba's purpose - to raise a godly king. And to show that there can be redemption and forgiveness for even the worst of sins.

_Let the redeemed of the Lord tell their story._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scripture consulted, quoted, or paraphrased are as follows, in no particular order:
> 
> * 2 Samuel 11 & 12  
> * 1 Kings 1:17  
> * 1 Kings 6  
> * Parts of Psalm 51


End file.
